Between the Lines
by DrunkOnJerichohol
Summary: A trail of coy clues leads Layla to an unexpected connection with a man she has the potential to have a real future with. All it will take is some effort on her part and some bravery on his. It's as simple as reading between the lines. (one-shot)


**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Any and all original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

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The riddle began with a 4" x 6" index card.

Layla was nearly swimming in her borrowed black sweatsuit, white stripes lining the sides of the pants and arms of the sweater. Her luggage had been a casualty of an irresponsible airline, and she had been left with no other choice than to borrow clothing from one of her fellow Divas. Unlucky as she was, Tamina was her only female co-worker with an outfit to spare, hence why she was drowning in the depths of a velour suit that was around five times her actual size. The three-ring circus nature of her life was perhaps what made it all the more amusing that she had snagged herself a suitor, and one who had seemingly put a critical amount of effort into attracting her.

A lopsided smirk settled on her face as she turned the card over in her hand, studying the calligraphy the message was written in. She could appreciate the anonymous sender's efforts in presenting her with fine handwriting, rather than simply scrawling a rushed note on some paper, and she studied the message through narrowed eyes a while longer, checking for any telltale sign that would clue her in to who might be waiting in the shadows. Someone had their eye on her, and a circulating bundle of nerves swelled in her belly and mingled with the butterflies that had come to join it. Layla had been a single woman for quite some time, and though she wasn't necessarily on the prowl for someone new, she didn't think gaining a caring man in her life could ever hurt.

"What are you doing over there?" Tamina asked, straining her neck to spy on Layla.

When she peeked at Tamina from across the women's locker room, she was sprawled out on the carpet, stretching her sore limbs to prepare for that evening's show. There was no telling whether or not she would appear on the show, since it was still in the process of being written and re-written throughout the day. That was par for the course in the hours leading up to a typical Raw taping, and all they could do was cross their fingers and pray they would make the final cut. Regardless, it was better to prepare and be disappointed than to assume they wouldn't be placed on the show and be blindsided.

"I've got a secret admirer," Layla squealed, holding up the note card she had found in the locker with her name posted on the front.

"I always thought those Wyatt guys had a thing for you," she laughed. "Bray seems like your type."

"Please, don't make me vomit," Layla's features contorted into a look of disgust, and she stuck her tongue out at Tamina. After running her fingertips over the length of the card a few times as she tried to make sense of the message, she read it aloud to Tamina to get her input. Thankfully, they had the shared locker room to themselves, for the time being, and didn't have to send their feelers out for potential eavesdroppers, since most of the other Divas wouldn't arrive until closer to showtime. The card read:

_Winning you over is my mission,_

_find your next clue at the backstage area's most popular position._

"What do you think it means?" Layla asked, after having shared the message. She was thankful to have an acquaintance at her disposal to guide her through the motions. Had it not been for Tamina, she would have found herself lost and confused and might not have worked up the courage to take any action at all.

"What do _you_ think it means?" Tamina arched a coy eyebrow and grinned widely enough to put her entire set of teeth on display.

"No fair, I asked you first."

"It's really pretty easy if you think about it," she shrugged. "Whoever it is wants you to go to the most popular backstage position. Think about that for a second. What _position_ does everyone back here spend most of their time in once the show starts?"

Layla's brows furrowed as one, then divided when the answer came to her. The tension melted off of her face and she smiled, laughing at herself for being so blind. It was obvious where she was supposed to go next, and excitement bubbled inside of her like water in a cauldron at the thought of being one step closer to the person who sought her time and attention. She could only hope it wasn't one of the guys messing with her for their own personal amusement, because she knew people in high places and could have the culprit taken care of in a nanosecond, if it came to that. Part of the enjoyment of building friendships with the boys was that they all had physical prowess and strength, and most were deeply protective of the women. In them, she had formed true allies, who were on standby at all times.

"I'm off to Gorilla. See you later," Layla waved.

"Let me know how it goes."

"Sure thing."

She clutched the card in her left hand and held her dwarfing pant leg up with the other hand to prevent herself from tripping. She made a mental note to borrow clothing from one of the other women when they arrived, because they were sure to be closer to her in size and stature. As kind as Tamina had been to offer the clothing off of her back, it would only be a matter of time before Layla tripped over the excess fabric and hurtled to the floor below. She stepped into the hallway and began the self-conscious act of smoothing her hair down flat.

Of all the days her secret admirer could have chosen to pursue her, they just _had_ to select the moment when she wore the least flattering clothing, lost her luggage, and hadn't had time to curl her flat-ironed tresses. She had at least managed to straighten it to a silky smooth texture, and her luscious locks fell well past her shoulders and maintained their pin-straight style. Her wild, natural curls could be fun to wear on occasion, but they gave her a softer, younger look that didn't bode well for her persona in the ring. With straight hair, she felt more grown up, and she received more looks from guys when she ironed the curls out, as if the change in style unraveled a part of her beauty that had previously remained unseen.

A light draft swept by her hips and was the first sign of alert that her pants had fallen away from her waist and were threatening to drop right down to her ankles. With a heaving sigh, she clenched the note card in her teeth, while her fingers did the job of locating the drawstrings on the pants and pulling the waistband taut to her body. She made a secure twisting tie with the strings so the sweats would remain at her waist regardless of how much walking she did, and she continued on her even trek down the hallway. Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose strode side-by-side, no conversation between them as they marched in her general direction, and Layla barely resisted the urge not to bring a hand to her face for cover.

It was bad enough not looking her best in front of her fellow women, but having the opposite sex see her when she was grasping at straws with her appearance felt like torture. The Shield members were still in their casual t-shirts and jeans, not yet decked out in their Shield garb, and she smiled softly and gave them her best casual wave. They each waved back to be polite, but the truth of the matter was that she didn't know them all that well. As a collective group, they regularly mingled with the other boys and avoided the women. Layla had always found that an admirable trait because, as far as she could see, it served as proof that they were more concerned about furthering their careers than picking up hot girls. Not many of the young guys on the roster could truthfully say the same for themselves.

She briefly wondered why Roman was missing from the group, a thought that left her when she noticed Seth's and Dean's curious gazes transfixed on her longer than they normally would be. She attributed it to her frazzled appearance and felt the warmth in her cheeks as she bowed her head and passed them without further interaction. Not much was taking place in the absence of a large part of the roster that still hadn't arrived, so she reached Gorilla position before even a full minute had elapsed and stood around, trying to appear inconspicuous and feeling anything but. A flock of producers scrambled around with headsets attached to their ears as they prepared for the night ahead, and Layla was relieved they all ignored her in favor of completing their assigned work.

Taking a pair of tentative steps forward, she scanned the area on high alert and, sure enough, on a wooden table across the way from her, there sat a white envelope, which she inferred she was the intended recipient of. When she stepped up to the side of the table, her first name was written in fine print on the top, and she reached inside and pulled the hidden card out, revealing her next clue:

_I'm drawn to you because I know you're a real catch, _

_your next clue awaits where King and Cole call each match. _

"Ringside," Layla murmured, starting toward the curtain that divided the backstage area from the seating section of the arena.

The twinge of anxiety in her stomach had long since dissipated and been replaced with an incessant need to know who was behind it all. The prospect of one of the men she worked with taking a genuine interest in her was too good to pass up. She stepped around a gaggle of men working to secure the Titantron in its rightful spot and practically skipped the entire way down to the ring, which she circled around to get to the booth Jerry and Michael sat at during broadcasts. As expected, another note awaited her on the tabletop, but this time it was accompanied by a single, long-stemmed red rose.

She smiled and whirled the stem between her index finger and thumb before bringing the fresh petals up to her nose and inhaling deeply. She nearly lost herself in such a display of affection, but then she remembered herself and plucked the next card out of the envelope, reading it under her breath:

_If you want to know my identity, just look for the man standing proud,_

_I'll be in the stands of this arena, just a part of the crowd._

Layla's eyes flitted straight to the expansive area surrounding her on all four sides, as she studied the almost entirely empty stands through a pair of narrowed eyes. She couldn't pinpoint anybody waiting for her, but if the note said they were there, then the person must have lurked somewhere nearby. Her index finger found her hair, where she twirled a cluster of strands around it and attempted to smooth her pants down with her other hand. The part of her that was on edge about her appearance reared its ugly head once again, and she thought about passing up the opportunity altogether and trying to track down the mystery person when she was at 100%, but she had already come too far to quit.

Besides, if this person, whomever they were, cared for her the way they portrayed with their messages and gifts, then they should be happy with her, regardless of outward appearance. Still, she ran a hand through her hair about three times to smooth out any flaws and eyed both sides of the seating area, contemplating which one to begin her search on. It wasn't uncommon for a few Superstars or Divas to settle in the main part of the arena before a show began and, oftentimes, they would seek refuge out there in order to escape the chaos and general loudness of the backstage area. Usually, they would choose a seat on the side that sat left of the ring, so she rounded the ringside steps but thought better of it and dragged a set of them towards the barricade to give herself an added boost over the edge.

Layla hopped over without much effort and had only just begun her journey when movement caught in her peripheral vision and drew her gaze to the right. There, a few rows behind the barrier separating them from ringside, sat Roman Reigns in all his sculpted and chiseled glory. His Gold's Gym shirt hugged his biceps, displaying every last ripple and curve, and when his eyes met Layla's, he offered a curt nod. A nod. The gesture didn't mean much in the scheme of things, but when she scanned the vast area around them, there wasn't a single visible person besides Roman. All signs pointed to him being the man she was looking for, but...no, it couldn't be Roman. He wouldn't be interested in her that way.

Not Roman.

"Um...hi," Layla waved her hand, pulling it back at the last second, and she cringed inwardly. Even if Roman wasn't the guy, she didn't want to come off as a complete nerd in front of him. It would be favorable to keep her dignity as much intact as possible. "You didn't happen to see anyone else come to sit in the stands, did you?"

"No," he said, deep voice booming and seemingly unforgiving. As much as she didn't want to think negative thoughts, talking to Roman seemed akin to attempting conversation with a brick wall. He rarely gave any of himself away to his fellow workers backstage, and every conversation she had seen him hold with anyone besides his Shield buddies was stilted at best, uncomfortable at worst. Layla remained in the process of trying to figure out whether that was because he had a general aversion to people or if he was simply battling some form of social awkwardness.

"It's just that...I was supposed to be looking for...never mind," she waved her concerns off. "It's not your problem."

No sooner had she turned her back than he called after her with a sense of urgency. "Wait!"

Layla whirled around, tucking some hair behind her ear and biting her bottom lip. Now things were getting plain old bizarre. "Yeah?"

"Did you like the flower?"

Her eyes doubled in size as she glanced at her hand, nearly forgetting she had even been holding the rose. Her lips turned up into a smile as she gazed down at it, and when she lifted her head, she saw Roman through a new set of eyes. So it _had_ been him after all. "I love the flower. Roses are my favorite."

She caught a glimmer of a smile, but it showed more through the twinkle in his eyes than from the movement of his mouth. Roman was a man of few words, but something told her once she broke those walls down, he was a person who would have a whole lot to express. With a sweep of his hand, he motioned to the seats in the row which he sat and cocked an eyebrow. "Would you care to have a seat?"

"Sure," she smiled, careful not to trip.

She folded her seat down and settled into it, breathing in the intoxicating scent of Roman's cologne when he took a seat beside her. The smell was a mash-up of sandalwood, moss, and clove, and somehow gave Roman a more rugged vibe. When she thought he wasn't paying attention, she turned to him, taking in his raven-colored hair as it fell at his shoulders. His eyes were tired but alive, holding a sparkle that enthralled Layla and kept her hostage in a way she wasn't interested in warding off. She could get used to a guy like Roman at her side. He slipped his arm around the back of her chair, and she melted. Oh yes, she could definitely get used to him.

"So...?" she turned her eyes up, goading him into an explanation, although most of his actions had spoken for themselves.

"Is this weird?"

"Maybe a little bit, but not in a bad way," Layla shrugged, bringing the rose back up to her nose. This time, however, it was more of a nervous action than one of innocent desire. "I wasn't expecting to see you here, that's all. We barely know each other and, I mean, we don't really talk or anything, so I had no clue you would be interested in me this way. You seem so mysterious, it's like I have no way of knowing what you're thinking."

"I like it that way," Roman said, rubbing up and down his own arm while flexing his hand, curling and uncurling it into a fist. "I don't give too much away. People always want to be in your business just so they can spread it around, especially in this competitive kind of environment," he said, noting Layla's head tilt. "I don't mean to sound like an asshole or anything. I've just had some bad experiences in this business with people I thought I could trust, so I'm sort of leery about letting people in."

"That's understandable, but I wouldn't want you to be that way with me," she said, thinking back to Seth and Dean, who had passed her backstage on her way out to Roman. "Do your friends know you're here?"

"Yeah. Is that a bad thing?"

"No, it's just sort of funny," she giggled, and that time, Roman managed an actual smile that spread all the way to his cheeks. "I passed them on the way here, after I got your first note, and I thought they were looking at me sort of funny. Not rudely, but just more like they were thinking something about me that I couldn't quite pinpoint. I guess now I know why."

"They're good guys, you know."

"I believe you."

"They tend to be standoffish like me, but once you get to know them, they'll be some of the best, most loyal friends you'll ever have in your life. I don't even know where I'd be without them."

"So you all travel together?"

"Absolutely," he nodded. "They're the only thing that makes being on the road tolerable, but I was hoping to have someone new to make it more fun."

A heated blush circulated within her cheeks, and she stared at her lap in an attempt to hide it, but Roman's eyes were on her and she guessed he had noticed the discoloration in her face. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing if he knew he had the ability to make her blush. If anything, it would clue him in that she was interested in his advances, and then maybe he would relax and not be so tense around her. "That's a pretty big compliment. Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said. He folded his hands in his lap, not taking his eyes off of her even for a second. "This whole thing has probably been sufficiently awkward for you, but I didn't mean it to be that way. I've just had this thing for you, and I always thought you were cute, so Seth and Dean told me to go for it but to find a fun way to do it, and that was where I came up with the note card idea. I was thinking we could have some dinner after the show tonight, but only if you want to. You don't have to appease me just for the sake of it."

"No, I'd actually really like to go," Layla replied. "I think we could have a lot of fun together. I'll finally get to see who the real Roman is, behind the stony stare," she joked.

He chuckled under his breath and pressed a light slap to both of his thighs, following that by reaching out for her hand, as if he had been wanting to do it for a long time but didn't know how she would react. Layla gave in, placing her palm inside his and softening when his fingers closed in around hers. She felt a safeness and security with him that she hadn't expected from someone she barely knew, but it was there. Roman led her back to the barricade, where he gave her a boost and she landed safely on the steps she had placed on the opposite side. After Roman jumped over, he replaced the steps at ringside and brought a guiding hand down on the small of her back as they traveled back up the ramp.

Layla looked down at the gathering of cards and the rose she held in her free hand and smiled, shaking her head. "Who would have thought you would be the note-leaving type of guy? I didn't know you had it in you to be so sensitive."

Roman, never ceasing to amaze her, smirked. "I've got a lot of surprises lurking up my sleeves, as you'll soon find out."

"Bring 'em on," she laughed.

It began with a 4" by 6" index card, and ended with a promising date.


End file.
